a walk without you
unless looking into a mirror
one only sees the world ahead
void of the self
that otherwise
seems inescapable.
in a world before
silver mirrors
and gleaming, reflecting
surfaces
one would only catch
one’s own image ever
as a fluid ghost
on the surface
of a still water.
maybe the self
was more fluid then, too,
less defined by the
expectations that came
with the knowledge of one’s
appearance.
once you asked me
what i thought the world
would be like
after you were gone
and i told you
to just look ahead.
today i took the same walk
and i can confirm
what i said back then.
the world is still
the same
void of you
as it was with you.
only someone walking
behind us would have had
a different view
of our world,
a view that would have
included us.
but through my eyes
the world ahead
the curve in the road
the tree that bends over the path
the fence with peeling
– or fresh –
paint depending on the
time of year
still does not include us,
never has
and never will.
i am glad
that the small path
we used to walk
does not depend
on our presence
to be lovely.
only the fluid images
of you and me passing by
the quiet pond
used to acknowledge human ghosts.
but those did not take up much space
and one barely notices your absence
as only one of us
passes by.
Art & Writing 